Jericho Fortuna
by Failure Turtle
Summary: Jericho is convinced that he's always right, so he decides to become a fortune teller. One shot.


**A/N: I was thinking of a short hiatus, but the amazing people at my favorite website (outside of this one) put me in such a great mood that I had to write this. The idea instantly came to me when Jericho uttered those four ever true words: "I am always right."**

Jericho took in a deep breath as he outstretched his arms and closed his eyes. He sat on his throne that was on an elevated platform in the cafeteria. Lance Cade stood by his side. He exhaled, bringing his arms down and addressing his peers, who simply looked at him; some in shock, a few in awe, but everyone thought he was crazy.

"Dear Jerichoholics, I have assembled you here today to tell you who you are. I will reveal the truth about each and every one of you on the RAW roster, for I am Jericho Fortuna." He turned to Lance Cade and requested, "Lance Cade-arino, my faithful assistant, will you bring me the table?"

Lance Cade rolled his eyes as he glanced down at the outfit Chris had forced him to wear. The tight fitting black pants and sparkly purple shirt with a deep v-neck was too much for Lance. He then looked at Jericho's ridiculous ensemble: a sparkly blue turban with a sparkly green cape.

Lance wasn't sure which one was Siegfried and which one was Roy.

Lance stepped behind the throne and dragged out a small table that was usually used to display a vase of flowers in the hall of one's house. On top was an ornate crystal ball filled with yellow sparkles.

"Thank you, Lance Cade-arino," Jericho sighed, once again using the fortune teller name that he had donned Lance with. "Lance Cade-arino, I shall start with you."

"Chris, I already know who I am. I don't need you to tell me."

"Are you defying Jericho Fortuna? You know, Lance Cade-arino, defiance is nine-tenths of the law."

"I'm pretty sure that _possession_ is nine-tenth of the law," Lance corrected Chris.

"Are you a drug dealer, Lance Cade-arino?" Jericho demanded to know. "I will _not_ have a drug dealer as my fortune telling assistant. Possession may be nine-tenths of the law in _your_ crazy world, but this is the world of Jericho Fortuna. I say that defiance is nine-tenths of the law, and you're breaking it."

"Okay, fine, Chris. Why don't you tell me about myself, then?"

"No, Lance Cade-arino. I've already told you what you were, and that is a defiant little brat that wishes he could look as good as me in sparkles. Oh my god, Lance Cade-arino, all you're missing is the white tiger," Chris spat. He wasn't used to such defiance.

"You're one to talk…" Lance muttered so Jericho couldn't hear him.

"Who would like to know the truth about their wretched souls?" Jericho asked the room.

"Go ahead, Kelly," Ted urged, nudging the blonde sitting next to him. "Get it over with."

"I don't want to…" Kelly sighed. Jericho honestly scared her.

"Come on, Kelly. Someone has to do it," Ted added.

Kelly pouted at the older wrestler. "Fine," she grumbled, standing up from the table and walking over to Chris.

"Kelly Kelly, are you so bold to challenge Jericho Fortuna?" Jericho asked, looking at the blonde who dared to challenge him.

"Ted made me," Kelly whispered, her eyes widening as she looked at Jericho's eccentric wardrobe.

"Do not be afraid, Kelly Kelly. I am not here to harm you…physically," he added with a grin.

Kelly took a few steps back.

Jericho swirled his hands around the glass ball, being a little too overdramatic. "Kelly Kelly, I see…I see…" He squinted his eyes and looked deeper into the yellow glitter. "I see…a question. Kelly Kelly, the fates want to know about your wrestling attire."

"Um, what about it?" Kelly didn't find anything wrong with what she wore in the ring.

"The fates say that when you wear bikini tops to wrestle, you are normally proportioned. But when you wearing regular clothes, such as you are wearing now, your chest seems to magically expand into a full blown blimp. The fates want to know why, Kelly Kelly. Is there a bit of stuffing going on? Isn't that a little high school of you?" Jericho questioned, his eyebrows furrowed together.

"Burn!" Ted yelled, high-fiving his tag team partner, Cody Rhodes.

"Shut up, Ted!" Kelly yelled, turning a bright shade of red. She didn't like being embarrassed in front of everyone like this, but who did?

"Kelly Kelly, hush your mouth. I will take care of this." Jericho stood up and glared at Ted and Cody. "Shut up, Ted!" Jericho yelled, using the exact same words that Kelly did. "It doesn't take the fates or a crystal ball to tell know that _you two_ are totally in love. The way you guys are always finding ways to touch each other is disturbing."

"We are _not_ gay," Ted defended, scooting as far away from Cody as he could, and Cody did the same.

"Jericho Fortuna _always_ tells the truth. Jericho Fortuna is _always_ right," Jericho jeered. "Prove me wrong, I dare you."

"Screw this. I'm going to go and play Zelda," Cody said, rolling his eyes and leaving the room.

"You're a sick man, Jericho," Ted said, following Cody.

"Yeah, that's right! Just follow him to his room, Ted! We all know what's going on there!" Jericho called back. "Kelly Kelly, you're dismissed," he said, sitting down and looking at the embarrassed Kelly. "Any other takers?"

No one answered.

"Oh, is it because the mighty John Cena isn't here to steal my gimmick about saving people? I am ashamed of you all," Jericho said in a harsh whisper, glaring around the room. "Where's your savior, Shawn Michaels, now?"

Yet again, no one answered.

"I'll take you on, Chris," Randy Orton said with an evil grin that could top Jericho's.

"Step up, Randy Orton. I can only save your pathetic soul now," Chris seethed.

"Bring it on," Randy smiled.

"Oh, it's already _been_ brought."

"So now you watch lame cheerleading movies? God, Chris, are you going to start snapping your fingers in a z-formation now?"

"Do you want to know the truth about you or not?"

"Let it out."

Chris once again swirled his hands around the crystal ball. "You, Randy Orton…You hear voices in your head…They talk to you…They understand…They…Talk to you…"

A few people in the room chuckled. They knew exactly where Chris's idea came from.

"You know, Chris, I don't think you understand what the term 'kayfabe' means."

"Defiance! Lance Cade-arino, off with his head!" Jericho screamed, pointing at Randy.

"Chris, you did your king bit already. Are we really going to back to this?" Lance asked.

"I'm the king of my world, Lance Cade-arino, and you are the court jester." Chris looked at Lance with piercing eyes.

Randy turned around and addressed the room himself. "Does anybody have a scythe? I'll behead myself if this is the kind of bullshit we all have to deal with."


End file.
